


Out, Out -

by avislightwing



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Death Wish, Forgiveness, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Midnight Confessions, Mortality, Nightmares, Not Really Character Death, Reconciliation, Sibling Bonding, Starblaster Headcanons, but like... ALSO not really, but like... not really, is a better word than forgiveness, misuse of italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avislightwing/pseuds/avislightwing
Summary: Some things stay with Lucretia longer than others, and some of those things tend to pounce when she's most vulnerable. It just so happens that someone else is around when they do.





	Out, Out -

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory Lucretia and Taako fic. Hurt written at 10:30pm in a frenzy, comfort written in broad daylight and edited. Y'all are lucky it turned out that way - there's definitely a Bad End Version floating around in my brain.

There are three of them.

Lucretia knows their footsteps without turning around. The light, steady footfall of her captain. The heavy mismatched one of her research partner. The lazy, strolling one of her best friend.

_You know why we’re here, Lucretia._

Lucretia, she thinks hazily. They used to call her Creesh. Lup had started it, but Taako had picked it up, and the rest soon after. And then, of course, they’d called her Madame Director. Taako had. Barry had said _her_. Davenport hadn’t been able to call her anything at all.

_Yes,_ she says. Tries to say. Her mouth doesn’t move. She reaches up to touch her throat. Wordless.

_You really thought you would get away with it?_ Taako’s high, hateful voice grates across her ears like physical pain. She never thought she’d hear that voice directed her way again, not like this. _You thought you could just walk away? Good job, Lucretia, you saved the fuckin’ multiverse, take all my fucks and don’t call me in the morning._

Lucretia starts to respond, but instead pain pierces through her back as four Magic Missiles connect. She hunches over, and she can’t breathe, but maybe she never could. She turns around.

There they are.

They’re wearing their red IPRE uniforms. She doesn’t know how they got them – didn’t think they’d kept them. Barry’s hood hangs low over his head and his glasses gleam from under it. Taako’s sleeves are torn and stained. Davenport’s jacket is buttoned up to his chin.

She can’t tell what else they’re wearing. All her eyes see is red.

_You shoulda known better, Creesh,_ Barry says, and Lucretia thought hearing Taako _not_ using her nickname was bad enough, but it’s nothing compared to Barry actually using it. He doesn’t even his lich voice, the haunting one in dual whispers she heard over the Stones in Goldcliff. Just his ordinary, gruff voice, the hint of Fantasy New York she’d picked out the minute she’d met him and teased him about for decades. _You really fucked this one up, huh? No goin’ back now._

Barry walks to her and puts a gentle hand against her collarbone. Necrotic energy surrounds it, and she screams –

(only she doesn’t)

and then the energy is gone and she can feel the hit points that slipped away from her as she gasps for breath that isn’t there.

_It wasn’t your ship to captain,_ Davenport says. _It was no one’s._

(it was no one’s decision to make, but she made it, didn’t she?)

Illusory pain is just as bad as the real thing when you’re as accomplished as Davenport is. Her hit points tick down like static until she slumps against the railing behind her

(where is she?)

(the Starblaster)

(no, the moonbase)

(no -)

_You woulda killed me,_ Barry says. _For good, Creesh, with that holy symbol._

_You sent us into Wonderland to die,_ Taako says. _You left Lup in a prison._

_You took my words and made me a fool,_ Davenport says. _You took the stars and the waves and the wind from me._

_You deserve this, Lucretia,_ they say together, and Lucretia can’t disagree.

_I just wanted you to be happy,_ she chokes out. _Please –_

It’s too late for please.

And then Barry’s hand is on her face and Taako’s KrEbStAr is glowing and Davenport’s monocle shines with arcane power, and she’s being battered with spells and torn apart, black smoke pouring from her in a cruel callback to Wonderland, and she falls to her knees and then they too collapse under her and she looks up with veiled eyes and she sees Taako standing above her with a cold smile on his face and then his face is illuminated with malice as _he deals the killing blow, he hits Lucretia in the chest with a fireball, and she’s burning –_

 

Lucretia woke up with a gasp, covered in sweat and rigid.

A dream. It was only a dream.

Of course it was.

She heaved herself into a sitting position and rubbed at her stinging eyes. Checked the time. Nearly two in the morning.

It figured that her subconscious would pounce here, now. Davenport had invited them onto his ship for the ten-year anniversary of the defeat of the Hunger, and the layout was disturbingly similar to that of the Starblaster.

Well. Disturbing to her. She supposed it was probably comforting to him.

Lucretia dragged herself out of bed, pulling the worn blue robe off a hook on the wall and putting it on, tying the cord in a slipknot, before grabbing her staff. She’ll make herself something hot to drink. It’ll help her fall back asleep – or at least help pass the time until morning.

She opened the door as quietly as she could and closed it behind her, padding down the hallway on bare feet. The ship was made of wood, not metal like the Starblaster had been, but she could still navigate these halls blindfolded and half-asleep, which was good, as she was all but both at the moment. At one point, she stumbled into a door someone left ajar, cursing under her breath as she hopped on one foot, holding her stubbed toe.

The kitchen had been on the upper level, the one right below the deck. It was in the stern of the ship so if anyone left cookies in the oven long enough to burn, the smoke could be vented out the back of the ship and not blow over the deck. In this new ship, Davenport hadn’t seen a reason to move it, especially with the less-than-peak kitchen technology available on Faerun. He’d even kept all the bunks, too, though he mostly used them as guest rooms and navigation chambers and the like, since he no longer had six other people living on the ship full-time. Lucretia had asked him once if the ship felt empty, but he’d replied that it didn’t; it made him feel closer to his family, like he was taking them with him as he sailed around the world.

Lucretia realized, the moment she opened the door to the kitchen and saw the light on and the figure standing at the stove, that she must’ve seriously fucked up her perception roll. She started to back out of the room, but he turned and saw her, ears drooping to his shoulders.

“Taako.” She pulled her robe closer around her with one hand, the other clutching her staff self-consciously. “I – sorry, I didn’t – I’ll just –” She started to turn, closing the door behind her.

“Don’t bother.” Taako turned back to the stove, where he was stirring a pot of milk. “’T’s whatever, not like I care.”

Lucretia hovered in the doorway, leaning heavily on her staff. “I don’t want to impose.”

Taako’s shoulders hunched. “Already are, homie. Made too much of this anyway.” He stirred the pot. “You leave now, I’ll have to throw it out.”

Wasting food was Taako’s number one pet peeve. Lucretia took a step into the kitchen, then another, then went over and settled herself on the stool at the counter, wincing a little at the creaking of her joints. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Taako turned and opened the refrigerator, rummaging through it, allowing Lucretia a good eyeful of him. He was wearing baggy, comfortable-looking clothes: sweatpants with HOT STUFF emblazoned on the butt in red, a t-shirt Lucretia thought she remembered Lup wearing a while back, and a vintage Magnus flannel. His hat was perched on his head as usual, and his hair was pulled into a messy braid over his shoulder.

It made Lucretia’s heart ache, the whole scene. It reminded her too much of their days on the Starblaster, Taako wearing fifteen layers in the hope that the pressure would help his night terrors, Lucretia wandering the halls aimlessly from insomnia, both of them ending up in the kitchen.

It’d been at least thirty years since the last time that had happened.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Lucretia asked.

“’M an elf, don’t need that shit,” Taako said, but the reply felt rote. An excuse that he told strangers. He pulled a carton of cream from the fridge, poured it into a bowl, and waved a hand over it. The bowl frosted over. He reached up to the band in his hat and tugged a twig out, waving it and setting a whisk frothing up the cream.

There was an awkward silence.

“Taako,” Lucretia said suddenly, knowing she was going to regret this but unable to keep her mouth shut, “would you really have killed me?”

The whisk jerks, sending flecks of cream over the counter, as Taako flinches. “What the – what the _fuck_ ’re you talking about?”

“The – right after – fuck,” Lucretia mumbled, getting up. “I don’t know why I said that, dumb thing to say, I –”

“No. Lucretia. What the fuck are you talking about?” Taako snapped, turning around. “You don’t – fuckin’ – say something like that and leave. Not okay. Spit it out.”

“When… right after you got your memories back,” Lucretia said. “You know.”

Taako made a face like a cat that had smelled something disgusting. “When I pointed the umbrastaff at you did that, uh, countdown. Hey, _Lucretia_ , if you remember, Magnus had his fuckin’ _sword_ out and pointed at you too. You asked him recently if he’s thought about murdering you? Hmm? I was _mad_ , Lucretia, furious, but I wouldn’t have _killed_ you, what the fuck d’you think – oh, come on, don’t –”

“Sorry,” Lucretia muttered, wiping her eyes where tears had appeared of their own free will. “It’s stupid. It’s nothing.”

Taako let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes. “It’s not nothing. You’re a grown-ass woman crying her eyes out in my kitchen at two in the morning, and you just said you thought I was going to straight-up shank you for a bit there.”

Lucretia let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “I thought you all were.”

Taako stared at her for a second, than shut his mouth with an audible snap. “Okay, so it’s _trauma unloading o’clock_ , apparently, give me a _fuckin’ second_ ,” he said, grabbing the spoon from the pot and stirring it viciously. The smell of chocolate filled the air as Taako’s transmutation magic worked. He left the spoon stirring itself and Mage Handed a cabinet open, grabbing a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. “Any convo with you is gonna take a little, uh, a little help here,” he muttered, pouring a healthy portion into the pot, “but this has gotta take the cake, Jesus Fantasy Christ, Lucretia.”

Lucretia sat in silence as Taako poured the hot chocolate into two mugs and topped them with whipped cream. He slid one over to her, and for a moment, she imagined he was going to come and sit by her, but he just hopped up onto the counter across the kitchen. “Rules for Taako Time,” he instructed, raising one finger. “Cha’ boy gets to walk straight out of here at any time. Equal trauma-sharing time for everyone in this fucking circle of – of oversharing. And this doesn’t mean I forgive you or anything like that, ‘cause I fuckin’ _don’t_ , so if that’s what you’re looking for, you can take your chocolate booze and go right back to your room. Yeah?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Lucretia said. She took a sip of the hot chocolate, feeling it warm her up all the way down her throat and into her stomach, spreading outward. “You wanna go first?”

“Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this.” Taako jabbed a finger at Lucretia. “It’s been ten years, and basically the first thing you say to me, alone, is whether I was going to murder you. Leaving me with a few _questions_ , there. Talk. And don’t, uh, don’t worry about making me feel bad, because you _can’t_. So go for it. Spill. You may have fucked up big time, no-forgiveness-earned big time, but that isn’t, like _permanent murder_ material.”

“I thought it was,” Lucretia said, more calmly than she thought was possible. “For ten years, I was convinced that I was a clock ticking to zero. I thought when I reversed everything, you all would just… kill me.” She shrugged. “I suppose that was why I wagered so much time in Wonderland. It didn’t matter anyways, did it?”

“Holy fuck, Lucretia,” Taako said. “What the _fuck_. What kind of –” He broke off. “You think Lup would kill you? Merle? _Magnus?_ ”

Lucretia shut her eyes against a sudden, vivid memory of her nightmare. “No.”

“Not everybody, then,” Taako said, in a bit of a different voice. “Me, and Barry. And Cap’nport.”

Lucretia nodded, and she felt like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “I – I fucked up so _bad_ , Taako. I did what I thought I had to do, but it was still – gods.”

“It’s been ten years,” Taako said. “What happened. You didn’t, uh, bring this up for no reason, that’s bullshit.”

Lucretia shook her head. “Just a stupid dream. Nothing. Anyways, that’s my sob story. Your turn.”

Taako took a long drink from his mug and swung his feet against the cabinets. “Cha’ boy’s good,” he said with a shrug. “You’re so goddamn self-sacrificing I didn’t think you’d fess up unless I said I had shit to say as well. I just wanted hot chocolate, and if a dude wants hot chocolate, he’s going t’make himself hot chocolate, you feel?”

Lucretia let out a surprised, choked laugh. “Taako, you manipulative fuck.”

“You know it.” Taako raised his eyebrows at her over the top of his mug. “So, basically, you had a dream me and Barry and Cap’nport murdered you, so you decided to pull a fantasy Mrs. Rochester and wander around the halls like the crazy old lady you are?”

“I’m only sixty-five,” Lucretia objected.

“That’s like, eleventy-hundred for humans,” Taako said. “Don’t try to fool me. You’re old as balls. You’re wearing an old-lady robe.”

“You know I’ve had this since cycle forty-two.”

Taako pointed an accusing finger at her. “Point proven. Also, it’s sixty-five plus a hundred.”

“Minus twenty.”

“Still too many fuckin’ years.” Taako’s ears, which had perked up, now drooped again. “You’re real old, Lucretia, y’know that?”

“Taako, this is ten years more than I ever thought I’d live,” Lucretia said. “I’m doing okay.”

“You’re having trouble standing up straight.” Taako gestured at her staff, which was leaning against the counter. “Wouldn’t call that _great_.”

“It happens. Bodies break down. Dust to dust, and all that.”

Taako laughed sharply. “Funny you’d put it like that. Y’know, I once told Barry something. Right after we made the Relics. I said… for a hundred years, everybody besides the seven of us, they were just – dust.” Taako stared into his mug. “You may have fucked up big time, Lucretia. Like, big time, end-of-the-world, send-your-pal-Taako-to-a-fantasy-therapist fucked up.” Lucretia winced. “But I wasn’t going to kill one of the only people who wasn’t dust,” he continued, more softly. “Even if… I was really mad at her. Furious. Even if I pointed an arcane focus at her and did a really dope countdown.”

“Taako, I –”

“No, shut up, it’s Taako’s time to talk,” Taako said sharply. “Listen, I’m a little drunk, and it’s the middle of the night, otherwise I wouldn’t be saying this. But I don’t… fuck, Lucretia. I don’t see people as dust anymore, and as many ways as you fucked me up, that wasn’t one of them. Don’t go getting a big head or anything – it would’ve happened eventually, Taako’s fantastic, obviously – but by the whole ess-ay-ess…” Taako shrugged uncomfortably. “I had people. Mags and Merle, ‘course, but like… Agnes, and Kravitz, and _fuck_ , don’t tell any of them this, I have a _reputation_ to maintain, but even people like fuckin’… Hurley, and Roswell. I’m not saying the whole sitch couldn’t have been avoided and it would’ve turned out way better, natch, but I guess… it wasn’t all, one-hundo percent bad for Taako, okay?” He downed the rest of his hot chocolate. “And if you tell anyone about this, I will deffo murder you, comprende?”

“…Yeah,” Lucretia said, slightly stunned in the wave of more concentrated Taako-feelings than she’d been on the receiving end of for decades. “Yeah, of course. Not a word.”

“Good. Now shoo.” Taako flapped a hand at her. “I want my kitchen back. It’s prime-time for some privacy, ‘kay? Way too many feelings around here.”

“It’s Davenport’s kitchen,” Lucretia said, “but okay. And… Taako?”

“Huh?”

“Thanks,” Lucretia said quietly. “I’ve missed you.”

Taako squirmed for a long moment, then finally said, “Missed you too, Lucretia. We’re not… we’re not _good_. But you’re old as shit, so it’s not like I got forever to give you the Taako tee-em cold shoulder. Guess ten years for humans is like, a hundred for elves. Now go get some sleep or I’ll burn a spell slot sticking you to your bed, I swear to Dan.”

“’Night, Taako.”

She could hear Taako sigh as she left the kitchen, and then, quietly, “’Night, Creesh.”


End file.
